


set it spinning hand in hand

by dreamtiwasanarchitect



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Finger Sucking, Hand Feeding, Historical References, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Spanking, through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect
Summary: “I killed you. Many times. And yet I love you like I have never loved anything else. Even after these centuries, it consumes me still.” Nicholas brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Joseph’s palm.Joseph looked at him with equal parts infatuation and exasperation. “We killed each other, my love. We were enemies in a war. We have not harmed each other since.”“No,” Nicholas said. “Though sometimes I still think about your hands around my neck.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 33
Kudos: 204





	set it spinning hand in hand

**Author's Note:**

> For Felicity, because nothing says "thank you and happy birthday" like, uh...3k words of Ye Olde Kink.

  
**1410**

“My love,” Nicolò moaned from their bed. “Will you not hurry?”

“Am I boring you?” Yusuf (the artist currently known as Giuseppe, though the name still did not feel right to Nicolo) asked, voice absent, eyes still intent on the canvas. 

“Rather that I can think of better ways to pass an afternoon.” Nicolò spread his legs, the sheet draped over his thighs pulling taut, but it did nothing to pique Yusuf’s interest, entranced as he was in his work. 

“Yes, but my love, I’ve promised this completed work to Cosimo tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, not today,” Nicolò countered. He traced a finger over his own nipple, hoping to catch Yusuf’s eye with the movement. 

“You said that yesterday,” Yusuf said, still refusing to look up from his work. 

“And what are you accusing me of?”

Finally, Yusuf did spare him a glance. “Being a wanton and a distraction as well,” he said, and winked before returning to his work. 

Though Yusuf was only jibing him, the name-calling made Nicolò’s belly clench with a sharp poke of desire. He made to stand and act on it, but Yusuf must have been paying him more mind than he appeared. His hand shot forward to stay Nicolò’s motion, but Nicolò wrapped his fingers around Yusuf’s wrist and gave a tug, spilling his lover forward on to his pile of pillows. Yusuf knocked against the canvas and it wobbled precariously, but he managed to steady it at the last moment. 

“Nico,” Yusuf chided. 

“Yes?” Nicolò asked, faux-innocence before he surged up to bite at Yusuf’s neck, something he knew Yusuf did not particularly enjoy. Yusuf squawked and grabbed his wrists, pinning him down against the bedding.

“You are behaving devilishly today,” Yusuf said. 

Nicolò flashed him a smile and began trying to wriggle from his grasp. Yusuf only squeezed his wrists tighter. He straddled Nicolò’s hips and bore his full weight upon him. Nicolò kept up his struggle, but Yusuf held firm. The thrill of it went straight to his head. He stopped writhing then, and he went lax and pliant, his hardness pressing against Yusuf’s hip. He relished this feeling of being at his lover’s mercy, and thought perhaps Yusuf might have him like this, but to his dismay Yusuf released him, bringing both of his hands to cup Nicolò’s neck instead. 

Nicolò sighed into their kiss, and though the tangle of their tongues diverted his focus, some serpent coiled in his stomach still hissed at the thought of rougher treatment. As he rolled on to his belly, he kept imaging Yusuf’s long fingers wrapped around his wrists. 

**1536**

Nicholas and Joseph walked home in silence, their gaits brisk. Upon arrival, Joseph was quick to start a fire in the hearth. It was early spring and not particularly cool, but the day’s events had left them feeling chilled.

“That was horrid,” Joseph commented, coming to sit close to Nicholas on their bed. 

“Yes, quite,” Nicholas agreed.

“Do you believe he ever loved her? I should think not,” Joseph mused. He laid his forehead against Nicholas’s shoulder and twined their fingers together. 

Nicholas let his chin rest on the crown of Joseph’s head, delighting in the way his lover’s curls tickled at his nostrils. “Why do you think so?”

“He had her killed, Nico.”

“I killed you. Many times. And yet I love you like I have never loved anything else. Even after these centuries, it consumes me still.” Nicholas brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Joseph’s palm.

Joseph looked at him with equal parts infatuation and exasperation. “We killed each other, my love. We were enemies in a war. We have not harmed each other since.”

“No,” Nicholas said. “Though sometimes I still think about your hands around my neck.”

At this, Joseph was taken aback. His eye went wide, and he looked wounded. “Nico,” he said, sounding heartbroken. “I am so—”

“You misunderstand,” Nicholas interrupted him. “It haunts me, but not in the way you imagine.”

“Then you must explain,” Joseph urged, face wrinkled in confusion.

“You might think me mad, but I will try,” Nicholas said. He unwound their hands and brought Joseph’s against his own neck, relishing the feel of sure fingers pressed against his pulse. “It makes my blood run hot, the thought of being at your mercy. Thought of you holding me down, taking me—the thought that I am yours to do what you please with.” Nicholas swallowed and held Joseph’s hand more tightly to his throat. “The possibility of true death, along with all the little ones.” 

“But you _are_ mine—and am I not yours, as well?”

“Yes, of course,” Nicholas said, trying to be patient instead of irritated. “But—it is like a game, to pretend otherwise.” 

Jospeh’s expression was thoughtful, though when he spoke again his voice was strained. “I am not certain I can sate your violent appetites.”

“You need not, Yusuf” Nicholas told him quickly. “I only wanted you to know. We should not have—secrets from each other, not of this kind.”

Joseph nodded. Almost absently, he traced his thumb over the bob of Nicholas’s throat, and his face became considering. “Though perhaps you just need to tell me more.”

Nicholas bit down on the shudder that ran through him.

**1788**

Sunlight streamed in through the window of their villa. The world had been a dark place for them lately, but as Nicolas laid his head on José’s knee, he felt his spirits lift. Outside, three of the town children were chasing after their mountain dog, and their squeals of delight, interspersed with the occasional bark, trickled in through the open window. 

“My Nico,” José said reverently, combing his fingers through Nicolas’s hair. 

In response, Nicolas nuzzled his face against José’s leg. Everything around him was soft, from the fabric of José’s breeches to the cushion he knelt upon to the satin ribbon wrapped around his wrists.

“So sweet for me,” José continued. “And speaking of—” He broke off a piece of cake from the plate balanced on his thigh and brought it to Nicolas’s lips. 

The flaky pastry was excellent, but the sweet almond custard had Nicolas moaning. He licked it greedily from José’s fingers. 

“A loyal mutt of my own,” José said with a grin. He was only teasing, but the comparison went straight to Nicolas’s cock, and he sucked harder on the fingers in his mouth, the lazy hedonism of the afternoon giving way to something more urgently passionate. Jose looked at him knowingly, now well-used to Nicolas’s craving for abasement. 

“Your mouth is sinful,” he told Nicolas as he slipped a third finger into his mouth. “You’re a glutton for something to fill it, aren’t you?” 

Nicolas whined in the back of his throat. He made another terrible, needy noise as José’s fingers pressed down against his tongue. 

“Shall I give you something else?” 

Unable to speak, Nicolas nodded, desperate to convey how hungry he was for more. 

José pulled his fingers from Nicolas’s mouth and wiped the thin line of spit that followed on Nicolas’s cheek. The nonchalance of it set Nicolas’s chest burning with aroused humiliation, which was not lost on José, who grinned at him with knowing eyes. 

José moved the cake plate to the other side of the chaise and began to undo his breeches. Nicolas felt his mouth water, like a dog waiting to be fed its dinner. Jose’s hand came to cradle Nicolas’s head as he guided his cock into his mouth.

He sighed with satisfaction as Nicolas’s lips closed around him. “Sinful and perfect,” he groaned.

Nicolas hummed as he sucked on José’s cock. With his hands bound at his back, loose though they were, his own cock dripped, hard and untouched, until José brought his leg in and slid it closer to Nicolas. 

“Would you like to rub up against me, like a bitch in heat?” 

For a moment Nicolas was stunned, then he moaned around the cock in his mouth. He shuffled forward to do exactly as suggested, face flushed with the glorious shame of it. He was perilously close to spending already, and then José thrust forward, pushing himself so deep that Nicolas had to fight against gagging. 

José’s free hand dropped to Nicolas’s throat, fingers trailing down the white column of skin. “I can feel myself in here, filling you,” he said reverently. 

As he fucked Nicolas’s throat, José’s fingers pressed down, certainly not hard enough to bruise, but just enough for Nicolas to feel it, and the overwhelming blend of sensations sent him over the edge. 

The intensity of his orgasm, perhaps coupled with the lack of air, left Nicolas gasping for breath as José finished on his face. 

Nicolas fell forward with his head in José’s lap, trembling from aftershocks. José stroked his hair with shaky hands. His own breaths coming in heaving pants, and Nicolas was soothed by the rise and fall of his chest.

“How do you feel?”

Though his eyes remained shut, Nicolas turned his face toward the sun. “Perfect,” he said.

José bent down to kiss his temple.

**1917**

Nico threw another log into the hearth, perhaps more forcefully than necessary if the resounding thump in their bedroom was anything to go by.

“Quickly, Nico, I can’t feel my toes,” Josef said from where he was nearly buried under several furs and wool blankets.

“We are nearly out of kindling,” Nico complained as he rejoined Josef in bed. “Sebastien was meant to get more, but he has wasted the entire day sleeping off his hangover.” He made no attempt to keep the displeasure out of his voice.

Josef sighed. “I thought perhaps this time it would be better.”

“It is not,” Nico said bitterly. “It’s worse.” 

“Yes,” Josef agreed mildly. “Time, that’s all he needs.”

Nico would not be swayed. “Meanwhile, the rest of us must suffer.” 

Josef raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a foul mood.”

Nico huffed but decided he would not otherwise dignify that with a response, however true it may have been. Between Sebastien’s sulking and the recent rationing (and subsequent protests), it had been a bleak winter. 

Josef pushed himself to sit up against the pillows and gave Nico a furtive look. “Perhaps—perhaps if you are going to pout like a child, I ought to punish you like one.”

Nico’s mouth went dry and his sour disposition evaporated. “Punish me,” he repeated slowly, pulse racing at the prospect of this game they had never played before.

“Yes?” Josef asked, peering down at Nico as if to gauge his response, as if it weren’t obvious.

Nico nodded and made to get out of the bed. “How—”

“No,” Josef said, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Over my lap.” 

Overcome with adoration, Nico surged forward to press his lips to Josef’s, though it was not a particularly skillful kiss—he was too excited for any finesse. Josef gripped his chin and bit at his lip before pushing him away.

“Don’t be greedy, Nico,” he said.

Nico swallowed, already painfully hard and only feeling more aroused as he laid himself over Josef’s lap. Josef dragged down his trousers, exposing Nico’s ass to the cold air of the room. 

He ran two fingers down Nico’s spine before resting a hand on the small of Nico’s back. Nico waited, heart beating in his throat. 

The first smack was far from painful, but Nico still sucked in a breath. 

“Yes?” Josef asked. Nico nodded and got another slap for his trouble. 

Josef drummed his fingers on Nico’s ass and hummed. “Harder, I think?”

“Yes,” Nico hissed. 

“Ask for it nicely.”

“Please, Yusuf.”

Two more blows, one on each cheek in quick succession. 

“Could you finish from this, do you think?” Josef asked as he hit Nico again.

“I—yes,” Nico said. His hips had already begun humping against Josef’s thigh. 

Josef breathed a laugh. “My darling deviant. Let’s see it, then.” 

  
**1975**

“Joey,” Nick said with a frown. The double vowels felt wrong in his mouth. “I don’t like it.” 

“It’s still new,” Joey told him, smiling lazily. “You’ll get used to it, Nico.”

Nick leaned over to grab the pipe from his hands. “Perhaps.” 

“Or you will call me Yusuf, like you always have.” 

Nick smiled through the cloud of smoke he had just exhaled. “All right.” He rolled from his belly to his back to press against Joey. The hash, which their neighbors had been kind enough to gift them with, made it feel like their bodies were blurred together into one, a feeling that Nick often had but could seldom put into words.

“Yusuf,” he said, “will you slap me?” 

Joey laughed, then coughed as he blew out a stream of smoke. “What? Why? Do you think you’re dreaming?”

Nick grinned. “What other explanation is there for nearly nine-hundred years with the perfect man?”

Joey smiled back, but then his eyes widened by a fraction. “Wait, you were being serious?”

“Yes. I want to know what it feels like right now.” He pushed himself up to kneeling on the floor of their apartment, looking at Joey expectantly.

“Babe, we’re going out later, remember? You can’t be bruised.” 

“You have had too much hash, my love. Remember that I will heal?”

Joey rubbed at his face. “Ah, Nico…”

“What?”

“What if this is the time you don’t?” Joey’s face was crumpled, and Nick knew that their century-old fear had penetrated the thick fog of euphoria brought on by an afternoon with each other and a hash pipe. 

“Then we will have to tell our leather-clad friends that we’re not as innocent as we look to them, I suppose,” Nick teased, hoping to lighten the mood, but Joey still looked concerned. 

“You watched me heal this morning, when I cut myself with the butcher’s knife,” Nick reminded him patiently.

Joey searched Nick’s face, then sat up. “All right.” He held up his hand, then hesitated. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“And you won’t laugh at me if I miss? I’m very high.”

Nick laughed so hard he snorted. “I will laugh, but it will only make me love you more.” 

“All right,” Joey said again, then slapped Nick across the face. Whether it was the force of the blow or the hash, Nick saw stars. 

**2018**

Nicky set down _Conversations With Friend_ s and stared pointedly at Joe, who was holding his phone to his face and shaking with silent laughter that rocked the entire bed.

“What’s so funny, my heart?”

“Oh,” Joe said as he wiped at his eyes. “Memes.” 

Nicky leaned to rest his chin on Joe’s shoulder as Joe scrolled through the gallery of…memes. As far as Nicky could tell, it was just an assortment of random images, many of them featuring cats. He watched with growing amusement until he saw a red square that said _Keep Calm and Choke Me Daddy_.

He raised his eyes to Joe’s and hummed, trying not to smirk. “I like that one.”

Joe winked. “Well, you would.” He tapped the fingers of his free hand against Nicky’s neck. Nicky leaned into the touch, sliding a hand up under Joe’s t-shirt while making meaningful eye contact. 

“Oh, you want it now?” Joe asked, eyebrows raised. Nicky hooked a leg over Joe’s and tugged at his arm in answer. Joe took the hint and allowed himself to be rolled on top of Nicky, phone and its tiny pictures forgotten amongst the sheets.

For a few minutes they kissed, Joe’s hand on Nicky’s neck nothing but a promise of things to come. 

“I’m still open, from earlier,” Nicky breathed into Joe’s mouth when they broke apart. “You could fuck me again.”

Joe dropped his forehead against Nicky’s. “Fuck. You’re so greedy, Nicky, I love it.” The hand at Nicky’s neck stayed, but the other drifted to their waists to tug down their sweats. 

Nicky made himself useful by fishing for the lube in the nightstand drawer. He squeezed a generous amount on to Joe’s hand, and soon Joe was fingering him open.

“Another,” Nicky urged, lifting his legs to wrap around Joe’s waist. 

“I’ve already given you two—”

“Yes, and now a third, please—”

Joe gave his throat a little squeeze in warning, and Nicky cut off with moan. The bit of foreshadowing was enough to keep him from complaining as Joe hurriedly worked in a third finger before deeming him ready. The push of his cock burned a little, but Nicky luxuriated it in. 

Once fully seated inside him, Joe tightened his grip on Nicky’s throat. At first Joe only kept up the pressure for a few seconds at a time, but then he started choking Nicky until his vision danced.  
“Yusuf,” Nicky said, dizzy from the thrill of being breathless while Joe nailed his prostate. “Harder, please.”

“Fuck, Nico,” Joe murmured. He leaned down to kiss him as he squeezed his throat again, the thrusting of his hips knocking the headboard back against the wall. Nicky could tell Joe was close, and he was too—just a little bit longer, a little bit harder, he thought as his eyes rolled back, and he’d be there—

Everything went black for a moment, then Joe was down on his elbows, groaning into Nicky’s ear as he came, and Nicky was gasping for breath, his come coating both of their stomachs. 

“Fuck,” Joe panted into Nicky’s shoulder. He glanced up at Nicky, quickly scanning for any signs of distress. “Good?”

“Yes,” Nicky managed, though his chest was still heaving. “Thank you…daddy.” 

Joe’s eyes went wide with shock, but he laughed when he saw Nicky’s mouth twitch. “You shit,” he said, and let his head fall to Nicky’s chest. 

“That was very good,” Nicky told him, fingers coming to stroke his curls. He pulled Joe’s phone from where it had ended up wedged beneath his thigh. “Shall we look at more memes?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Internet points if you can guess Nicky and Joe's locations throughout the years based on my shitty context clues.
> 
> Drop a comment or come chat on [Tumblr](https://dreamtiwasanarchitect.tumblr.com/).


End file.
